


Too Many Faces

by 0ut0fluck



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-31 12:42:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0ut0fluck/pseuds/0ut0fluck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone struggles with what to show and what to hide, because we have a choice. We decide who to be every time we meet someone new. In the end, we all lead double lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

### Prologue

#### 1988 – Kansas, Smallville

  
His little legs are tired, and he is afraid. This small, small boy does not know that he is crying for his mother. His chubby cheeks are wet from tears, and his stubby nose is all red and dripping with snot. All alone he has walked and walked and walked, the sharp grass has dug into the soles of his feet and he flinches from the pain. Several times his legs stumble and give away. His knees are scrubbed and he is covered in mud. Don’t laugh at him; after all, this is his first try. He puts his palms on the ground and pushes his little body up again, wobbly and unstable he walks toward the warm light of Mr. and Mrs. Kent’s porch.

### Chapter 1

#### 2029 – Location unknown

  
I feel awful… Mouth is dry, head is spinning. Conclusion: I’ve been drugged. My hands and feet are tied behind my back. I could break loose, but I would have to dislocate my left thumb. That will be a last resort; instead I look around to find my bearings. I’m in a small room, no windows. My guess is it’s a storage unit. I could be anywhere in the country! I feel panic creeping up on me as I realize I am not wearing any clothes. I don’t remember being taken, or rather who was taken. Was I out on patrol? Was I in bed asleep? How long have I been here? I look around frantically; I try to find a clue, anything that could reveal where I might be. The room seems empty, though I can’t see what’s behind me. Judging by my shadow the light is cast from a low watt lamp close to the ceiling, two maybe three feet behind me. The chair I am tied to is welded to the floor. Might indicate whoever took me knew of my abilities. I’m cold and shivering so much my muscles ache, but still I’m sweating gallons. God, I feel old. I take a few deep breaths and refocus on the room. There’s nothing here. I can’t control the panic, maybe it’s the drugs, please let it be the drugs. A voice calms me down. It’s a friend. I feel the relief wash over me, I am not alone.  


“You’re awake.” He is three feet behind me, to my left. “I was getting worried.”

“Clark.” I try to say, but my throat is too sore. It comes out as a small croak and a wheeze. I need water.

“He is a liar that one.” He sounds off. Not quite himself. I try to shift so I can look at him, but I only manage to cut my wrists on the rope. Why is he just standing there?

“Help me-” My head jolts sideways from the sheer force. It missed my eye. Thank- no not god, never god. As I grit my teeth against the pain, I hear the tinkling of glass shards hitting the ground. I don’t know what just happened, but I am quite sure I ought to count my lucky stars. Everything is happening too fast, or perhaps yet again I have the drugs to thank for my lack of wits. There’s a familiar gust of wind then his hands grip my jaw and pull my head sideways, towards the light, towards him. I can see him now, and I don’t like what I see. His skin is dull and wrinkled around the eyes; his hair is tangled and filthy. It has aged him ten years, whatever it is that worries him.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is soft now, when before it was harsh and cold. I don’t know what has gotten into hi- pain, sudden and sharp, interrupt all conscious thought and this time I can’t hold it back. I scream, I try my best to control myself but I am not as young as I used to be, my stomach churns and he lets me turn and empty it on the floor. When it is over I slump back with heavy breaths. I blink away the involuntary tears and see that he holds a shard of glass in his hand. It’s stained with blood, my blood. It must have stuck to the bone. I wonder at this for a moment. “Sometimes I forget how fragile things can be.” I tear my eyes away from the shard and focus them on him; he averts his eyes as if in shame. “You seemed so small. So helpless… It made me think of _them_.” Something is very wrong. I try to pull my head back, but it would be easier to move a mountain. Blood is pouring into my eyes now, it stings and I awkwardly blink it away. He frowns at me and he slowly wipes it away with his shirtsleeve. His hands feel good against my cold skin and for a moment the shivering stops, I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. It helps, my head is clearing. He found me. It’ll be alright, as always.

“Why-” I start but stop when I see the red glint in his eyes, and in the next moment he breaks out in a furious tirade.

“Why! Always, why. It never ends. He is a curse! They worship me one moment only to spit at me in the next!” He makes wild gestures as he rants and his eyes glow redder yet. The small lamp and those eyes are the only illumination in the room, casting ghostly shadows on the walls. I don’t understand his reaction or what he’s talking about, but he acts as if I should. “I want them gone. I’m tired of them both, Bruce. Clark, Superman… they are nothing! Nothing like me…” He is suddenly at my side again, gripping my shoulders. His stare could kill me in an instant, I should be afraid. “I… I want you to get rid of them. You are the only one who can.” What? Does he mean for me to kill him? I couldn’t! I shake my head vigorously. What is this new separation of identity? He has never talked about himself this way before.

“No!” It sounds thick and weak. Not at all as I wanted. I don’t know if he can understand my growling words, but I try anyways. I’ll be damned if I agree to this! My head snaps up at him, my eyes wide open, a realization. “You brought me here?!” I struggle with the ropes. He looks shocked.

“I’ve… I’ve gone about this the wrong way.” He is talking more to himself now than to me. “I’m not thinking straight.” He paces in front of me, back and forth too fast for me to follow. I feel my stomach’s presence again and I choose to close my eyes.

“Untie me.” I say as I regain control. He stops then and looks at me. I see his eyes have faded; now they are as blue as the summer sky. Next thing I know he is kneeling behind me, rubbing the life back into my hands and feet. He has done what I asked for.

#### 2015 – Metropolis

Oops! I can’t believe I almost hit Batman with that one… I’m going to hear about this until my ears bleed. Which I guess would take a very, very long time. I swoop down to shield the pedestrians from shrapnel released when I hit the building. I meant to hit the flying mutant bastard but I guess I haven’t got it down just yet. I turn around and give a short wave to the people. “Sorry about that, I hope everyone is alright and I will help with the repairs, as always.” I fire off what I hope is a reassuring smile before I turn back to the action. I should find somewhere to practice the, what did Bruce call it? Oh yes, 'heat vision'. Better skip using it until then. Now where did she go?

“On your left.” It’s Batman over the com. I turn and see her racing towards the water reservoir. So that’s what she wants? Not a very original plan, I must say. I race after her, but she’s fast, faster than me. Maybe I can corner her? Let Batman reel her in. Oh! I crash into her. I don’t have time to lessen the blow, so we fall. On impact I crush her against the pavement, I can feel her wings break under me and in that moment she shrieks. The air has been pushed out of me and her screams temporarily paralyze me, I need a moment to recover before I can move. She struggles to get free as my weight grinds her broken wings further into the ground. She spits at me then, and it lands on my chest, burns through my suit and reaches my skin in an instant. The pain is unbearable. For a time I’m blinded by it, my screams join hers in a terrible crescendo. I don’t know how long the pain lasted, five seconds or five hours I couldn’t tell you, but when it finally withdraws I am at headquarters. I have no memory of how I got back, but Batman tells me I have been knocked out for three days.

“No, Clark. You need to stay still, it has not fully healed.” Batman lays his hands on my shoulders and pushes me back down. I look down on my chest and find it bandaged.

“What happened, Bruce?” I feel dizzy and weak. “I want the sun. Please...” I might be imagining it but the sun always makes me feel stronger, better. Even now when Bruce wheels me into the sunroom I can feel it affecting me. The fog seems to lift. “Thank you.” I say and smile at him. He isn’t smiling back, in fact he is scowling at me.

“What were you thinking? The media is in uproar over you.” What does he mean? All I did was protect them. Bruce must sense my mood, because he sighs and sits down next to me on the bed. He picks up a remote and turns on the television. Apparently they are still talking about me. I am shown a clip of me flying high above ground, for a moment I don’t understand what this is all about, and then I realize that this is footage of me firing the 'heat vision'. The angle of the recording makes it seem as if I am aiming at the building on purpose, or at least seem completely oblivious to it. I hadn’t noticed which building it was at the time, but now I can clearly see it, since the camera man or woman zooms in on the sign saying "St. Michael’s Orphanage". I sigh as the newscaster calls me irresponsible and careless. She also informs us that although no children were physically harmed, they are expected to show signs of mental trauma from the incident.

“This, this isn’t fair. I don’t deserve this.” Bruce just nods towards the screen again and I turn my attention back to it. Now there is footage from what seems to be a pedestrian’s cell phone camera, a picture of me when I address the people after blocking the shrapnel raining down on them. My suit has been torn and the picture is focused on the exposed area, a very indecent area indeed. I grunt at it, repulsed that it is brought up on national TV as some celebrity scandal. It is below me and what I stand for. “This is… just outrageous! Am I supposed to feel ashamed?” I am angry, very angry, and I let it control me. I see red and the TV gives up a small pop as the laser makes a hole through it. Quite anticlimactic really. Bruce looks at me with that scowl again, and I try, I do really, but I can’t keep it in. I laugh a roaring laugh that doesn’t seem to end. And I swear it on my life; Batman gives in and laughs with me.

#### 2029 – Location unknown

He is just holding my hands now, perhaps lost in thought. I withdraw them and turn to face him. His eyes are closed and his breaths are shallow, constricted. He’s scared. I’ve never seen him like this, not ever. “Clark.” I try to soften my voice, but it is a wasted effort. He startles awake, disoriented and confused. What could have done this to him?

“Bruce?” He sounds so surprised. We need to get back, figure this out. I stand up, but I quickly fall back down. I’m weaker than I thought, I almost fainted… What did he give me? And how long since I ate or drank? “I need water, Clark, and rest. Please, let’s go back to HQ.” My throat is getting used to forming words again and I sound less like a dying crow.

“I don’t- no, not yet.” He is so fast, I barely notice what he is doing, and I find myself bound to the damned chair again. Is this some kind of psychosis? Kryptonite? I hope it’s the latter. The mere thought of- of Superman being mentally ill. Disastrous.

There is soft clinking from glass meeting glass and when he comes back he has water with him. He holds my chin up and tips the glass for me. Furious, I refuse it at first, but he’s strong. I swallow the water being forced down my throat, and with the second glass I swallow my pride as well. If there are drugs in here, so be it. It was a long time ago I was this thirsty. I ask for more. He fills it up over and over until I am satisfied. After not too long his grip on my chin starts to feel reassuring, almost welcome… safe. It surprises me and I forget what I’m doing, water spills over and I break out in a cough. He puts the glass down and pats me lightly on the back. My shivering gets worse from the cold water running down my neck and bare chest, and the contrast between my cold skin and his warm hands are unbearable. The cough recedes but he is not letting go. What does he want from me? The touch feels wrong now that it doesn’t have a purpose. Suddenly I feel self-conscious; I can’t stand the look he is giving me. Is it pity? Does he pity me? I’m angry but I try to mask it.

“Thank you, Clark.” I say and to me it sounds right, but he looks down on me with a new frown, this one is sad.

“Don’t call me that.” He says and sits down in front of me as if there was another chair there. His arms fold over his chest and I feel relieved, I can breathe again. “Clark has become a lie, a very intricate lie. I have forgotten what he used to be like, before...” He trails of and seems to slip away, as if daydreaming.

#### 2004 – Kansas, Smallville

“You’re sure I need to wear these?” To me they seem unnatural and strange on my face, like a mask. Though I suppose that’s the point. My mother just laughs at me and steps closer to stroke my hair.

“Oh Clark, don’t worry.” She says. “They look just fine on you. Makes you look smart.” I smile at her reflection in the mirror.

“I wasn’t worried about that…” I’m a little embarrassed. I start fretting about my hair. What hairstyle would someone with glasses have? Is there a rule for these things? I don’t notice, but my mother is picking up a comb from the drawers.

“Comb your hair like this, darling.” She starts fashioning a new style for me, a proper one… a smart one. Or as they would call it in school, I’m sure, dorky. Along with the new clothes and mannerism, I will look perfect, perfectly invisible that is, a nobody with dorky hair and glasses. I look at myself in the mirror and I chuckle, because I look absolutely ridiculous.

“Show me again how you did that?” I ask and inspect my hair closer.

#### 2006 –Kansas, Smallville

Collision in three, two, one! Remember, roll with it, you don’t want to hurt him. My books fly into the air as I am shouldered by Mike, the school dickhead, and I fall to the ground. I decide to add a final touch and I let my glasses bend slightly on impact. But I do let him feel it, just a little, I’m sure it hurt. I smile wickedly to myself before I scurry up to brush of his jacket and stutter my apologies. My audience loves me! Just listen to their scornful laughter, like music to my ears. Bastards. I gather my books and walk away, dropping sheets of paper as I go. I am getting really good at this. As I walk away someone taps me on my shoulder. I stop to turn around, confused. It’s the dickhead’s girl, Lana. This is new. I remember to look abashed, I bring my head down and hunch slightly. She is smiling at me.

“Wh- what?” I stutter and steal a short glimpse at her. Beautiful, as always. 

“You have to stand up to them, Clark. Or they will never stop treating you like this.” She hands me the papers I dropped and I give her a fast, wonky smile.

“Th- thank you. I’ll do that.” I practically rip the papers from her hands and hurry away. Poor Clark, he can’t handle the ladies very well. His clothes are slightly too big, mostly to hide the muscles he shouldn’t have, but they also add to the nerdy look. He is designed to be unnoticed by all, including girls. Now, that is a shame… I could grow to like Lana Lang.

#### 2029 – Location unknown

The wound is gushing out blood still, and I must look gruesome at best with it running down my face. It’s dripping from my chin down onto my thighs where it mingles with my sweat and vomit. I look at it while I wait, and I realize I am lucky to be alive. That glass shard could have killed me, had it hit me somewhere critical. There was enough force behind it to stick to my bone; it could have slit my throat just as easily. I glance at my friend who’s still deep in thought. He looks so old now. Do I look that way too? Perhaps I do. When we first met he was so young and so full of energy. I hated him at first; saw him as a threat. But he grew on me, charmed me like he did the rest of the world. I must try to help him. I consider the ropes again, but I should know it is useless. After all, Superman tied these knots. Even if I could break free, how far would I make it? As far as the door? Surely not. I let my hands rest.

“What happened to you, my friend? Why didn’t you come to me earlier?” It is just a whisper, but I know he can hear me.

#### 2011 – Metropolis

I didn’t know it would itch this much. I have to look into finding a better fabric… I fiddle with the lining of my undershirt while typing the article of this morning’s press conference. Mr. Luthor made a fine speech about clean energy, and I managed to talk him into giving me a private interview. Which, oops, I am running late to. Not good. Clark wouldn’t be late.

“What’s on your mind, Clark? Dreaming about me?” Remember to smile… The others will get disappointed if you don’t smile. I turn my head and look at my brilliant co worker and tormentor. I give her a shy smile. That should do it. Good boy.

“Did you want something, Lois?” I say while I stand up and put on my overcoat. “I’m afraid I’m running late so, I’d prefer if you make it quick.” Let her boss you around for three minutes, no more. Wait, no, the elevator just left, you don’t have time. “Actually, Lois, I don’t have time. I’m supposed to meet with Mr. Luthor-“

“You’re the one interviewing Lex Luthor! I can’t believe it. How did you-“ I cut her off in turn, by shoving her gently to the side.

“I really don’t have time. I’ll see you later, Lois.” I rush past her and reach the elevators just in time. I let out a deep sigh once the doors close behind me. I glance at my wristwatch. I have fifteen minutes. If I run I’ll make it there with 7 minutes to spare. I look around the garage as I exit the elevator and make sure there is no one watching. I reach the street in three bounds and from there I travel through back allies, jumping over and under the various obstacles, I am too fast for anyone to take notice. As I close in on the café where I am to meet Mr. Luthor I slow down to a halt. I comb my hair back, straighten my wrinkled suit and put on my glasses again. I’m about to step out onto the street when I notice a man staring at me. Oh, no. This could be bad. I look him over, he is calm which is good, he might not have seen anything. He is older than myself, and wearing a much more expensive suit. I give him a bright smile, the one I give to people I help. It usually reassures them, but not this time. What do I do? I fret for a split-second, and then make my move. I take a few steps in his direction. “Hi, I’m sorry to bother you; could you tell me the time? I think I might be running late.” I sounded carefree, almost flirty, and it should have worked. He frowns at me and tilts his head just a little. Ouch, second strike. Damn it, this guy is stubborn. I wait patiently for a reply. He looks me over then, head to toe. Either he is imagining himself picking me out at a line-up or… well, he’s checking me out. I let my cheeks blush and I look away with a small smile. It’s working. Ha! I was beginning to think that frown was permanently stuck to his face. He looks abashed, and is about to say something, as an older man taps him on the shoulder, calling his attention.

“Excuse me sir, your car is ready.” The old man steps away again. I rock back and forth on the soles of my feet and put my hands in my pockets.

“I won’t keep you... I’m running late, as I said. You have a good day.” I look him over as he had me and then I leave. As I walk away I smile to myself. That was fun.

I hurry down the streets and just before I round the last corner I remind myself to walk slower, to hunch my back and, of course, to add the nervous expression. I want Clark to appear professional, but above all, harmless. So when I enter the café I let my portfolio get caught on the door and I stumble inside. My entrance is just awkward enough to lure a snort out of one of the other customers. Perfect.

“Mr. Kent! Good to see you, good to see you. I was just telling Mr. Wayne about you.” I look up at Luthor and I forget what I was going to do next. Standing beside him is my earlier encounter. What are the odds? He looks shocked for a moment but recovers quickly.

“Yes, Luthor told me about your progress at the Daily planet. I am impressed.” I have to mesh ‘peculiar, flirty guy’ with Clark. Tricky. I give him a look of confusion and then that same bright smile I gave him earlier.

“I had no idea I was talking to Bruce Wayne when I asked you about the time earlier.” I give him a small nervous laugh. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wayne.” I push up my glasses a bit and then extend my hand to him. Luthor shakes my hand as well and gestures towards a table.

“I hope you don’t mind I invited Mr. Wayne, and that you respect his wishes of not appearing in this article.” I nod toward Wayne to assure him I understand. “He thought he should meet our star reporter before buying the paper.” Luthor is selling the paper? To Wayne? Interesting.

“Oh, well then you must be disappointed. I am nowhere near as good a reporter as Lois Lane.” I fiddle with my tie and let my face flush in embarrassment. Luthor chuckles at that and waves a waitress to our table. Mr. Wayne looks at me and then nods towards my wrist.

“That is a nice watch you have there, Mr. Kent. Expensive. They must pay you well at the planet.”

#### 2029 – Location unknown

I must have fallen asleep. I jolt awake as I hear the tail end of a question. Clark is calm now, I find him sitting next to me leaning against the side of the chair.

“What did you say?” I ask. He turns slightly.

“The day we met. Do you remember it?” Before I can stop myself I smile. How strange that it would have come to his mind, as well.

“Yes. I do.” He chuckles, it sounds warm and familiar. I must have heard it a thousand times before. “We met just before I bought the Daily Planet. Lex introduced us, or so he thought. But in fact we had run into each other just ten minutes earlier.” Clark moves up on his knees and leans his forehead on my arm. He is laughing silently; it is the kind of laugh that rocks your entire body.

“I-“ He starts but is interrupted by his laughter. “I had to keep flirting with you!” He looks at me now, leaning his chin on my shoulder. He is too close. “I fucked up. I really didn’t think I would meet you again, and I was so bored with Clark that day. He never got to have any fun, so I ditched him for just a few moments.” He shakes his head and his eyes tell of nostalgia. “I paid for that later. I was so surprised to see you there… I almost forgot myself entirely.” I can feel every breath on my skin, smell his hair, it makes me feel trapped. “Making Clark seem flirty was hard enough, making him gay… well that was a true challenge.” He never speaks of this. I never knew he changed so much about himself. Do I know this man at all? Suddenly, I have had enough; I don’t want to hear any more.

“Untie me.” I turn my head and look him in the eye. “Now.” I say. His smile fades then, but he doesn’t move away.

“No.” That is all he gives me. No explanation, nothing. I can feel the fatigue and stress tear at me; it makes it impossible to hold the anger in.

“What do you mean ‘no’? Is this how you treat your friends now!? You strip and torture them? Why, damn it!” I scream and spit at him. He looks at me, wide eyed and startled. I don’t care. “Tell me! Why am I here?” I rip at the ropes, cutting my skin on them further, but I don’t care. The pop is audible even to me; I wonder what it must sound like to him. I rip my hands free of the ropes and I don’t hesitate to punch him, although I know he won’t let me. He intercepts my fist and reaches for my other, injured, hand. I cry out in pain as he snaps my thumb back into place.

“Hold still and let me see.” I grit my teeth and stay silent.

#### 1992 – Kansas, Smallville

“Mommy!” It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream. “Mommy!” I close my eyes but it won’t stop. It’s all still there! “Daddy!” I hide under the covers, but I can still see them. I scream as one of them runs up to the bed where I am hidden. It’s come to take me away, to eat me or worse. I’m sure!

“Clark! Sweetie, what’s the matter?” It’s daddy! He’s come to save me. I’m crying now, loud wet sobs.

“Daddy!” The monster pulls the covers away and I scream and scream. It grabs me, picks me up and shushes me. It rocks me in its arms.

“It’s alright now. It’s alright. Daddy is here.” It’s daddy talking. I blink and then I see him. The monsters melt away and there behind them is my father and my mother. I cry because I’m relieved, and I cry because I don’t understand. I tell my parents that I saw them as monsters, that I had seen them with flashing teeth and hollow eyes. It takes hours before I am calm enough to sleep again.

#### 2029 – Location unknown

His eyes shimmer slightly as he x-rays my hand. I could never quite figure out why, but it makes him look-

“It’s not broken.”

“I know that!” I should be calm, use my head and get out of here. After everything and this is how I react? Useless! I’m sick, injured and exhausted. Nothing I shouldn’t be able to handle. Get a grip Wayne.

“Bruce…” His hands are on my face again; I bite my tongue and let him speak. “I need you.” My heart thumps painfully at that. He strokes his thumb over my cheekbone. I hold my breath. My teeth are aching from the pressure of my jaw. “Please. I feel lost. I don’t know how to be anymore.”

“So what? You want to die? Anything! Anything else I would have done for you. Damnit Clark. Even if I knew how, I couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t, do it.” I want to shake off his hands. Perhaps he can’t even notice my struggles.

“No, Bruce. I don’t want to die. I want to live. For once, I just want to live.”


	2. Chapter 2

#### 2029 – Storage unit

  
The world is spinning around me as I lay shivering on the floor. My vision is blurred, and my head hurts something awful, but my wound seems to finally have stopped bleeding. I have lost a lot of blood however, I reckon somewhere around two liters by now. Too much… The drugs, they might have reacted poorly with my medicine, made me bleed more- prevented clotting. It’s still difficult to think, the thoughts keep escaping me. I reach up to touch my face and my fingers come back covered in a crusty, disgusting mixture of my own blood and filth off the floor. Tendrils of it stretch down my neck and chest all the way down to my thighs. The wound hasn’t yet been dressed or attended to; it will surely leave a nasty scar. There is still vomit around my mouth, on my chest, but I am hungry despite it. I blink a few times, rub my fingers over my eyes and look around the room. Clark isn’t here. Somehow I feel indifferent about this. What catches my eye is the suit. It wasn’t there before. It wasn’t there during my restless pacing after he left me; it wasn’t there when I finally gave in to sleep, and it wasn’t there when I woke in need to relive myself.

I pull myself up and lean against the wall. I’m gasping for air. The smallest movement exhausts me. I have no delusions about being able to stand up, much less walk but the cape looks very inviting and I am cold. Left hand, right knee, right hand, left knee. Slowly, slowly I make my way over to the chair where the suit is draped. I have developed a fever during my sleep, no doubt from an infection. I seem to be indifferent about a lot of things. As I move the room spins on, it’s nauseating. Though, thankfully, my heaving yields nothing. How could it? I have had nothing to eat since he brought me here. I rest my head against the cool floor and I chuckle as I realize how this must look, a naked old man bowing in front of ‘his’ suit, but the floor is soothing against my burning face and I stay like this for a while longer. A flash from a long forgotten memory finds me. My mother’s cool fingers brushing through my hair, a worried expression on my father’s face and the smell of soap on soft pillows. I shake my head to get rid of their faces and my own guilt. They don’t belong here. 

My knees pop as I stand up, the room instantly goes dark and I force my head back down. It doesn’t help however. I stumble forward, falling past the chair and hit my elbow on the way down. I cradle it while biting down around the scream.

“Stupid, stubborn man.” I say to no one, and with considerable effort I reach up to tug on the cape. Then the world is draped in red all around me. For a second I imagine it to be blood, a thousand innocent people squeezed dry to give it its color, but I push down the images and lock them up tight. It will never happen; I will never allow it. This symbol must remain pure for as long as possible, even when he is gone it must still mean hope. Always. 

I curl up inside his cape and I instantly feel the warmth envelop me. I shouldn’t let myself fall asleep. Could be that I never wake up again. Must make him see reason, I must- I must make him…

#### 2016 – Gotham City, Wayne Manor

  
I walk around it slowly, taking in the sight. It’s perfect. “You made this for me?” I ask, but I don’t turn to look at him; my eyes are still transfixed on the suit. It’s sturdy but still soft, and the cape… I could fold it and keep it in my pocket. That’s how thin the fabric is. I wonder what it is made of. Silk perhaps? No, it’s something else, something much more resilient. 

“Try it on. We’ll need to know how it fits.” I snort at him. Always so serious. 

“Calm your horses, Bruce. I’m not done admiring it yet. This is a grand gift, beautiful. I don’t know how to thank you.” I touch the fabric of the cape, lift and release it; I enjoy the sight of it billow around the mannequin. 

“This is not personal, Clark. This is business.” Take a breath Clark, ignore him. He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He is upset with me. I sigh. 

“Fine.” I kick off my shoes then loosen my tie and drag it over my head. I continue to undress, my fingers working the buttons on my shirt with surety and speed. I let the shirt fall to the floor where it lands in a crumpled heap. Continuing with my pants and then, finally, I peel of the tight spandex suit. Glad to be rid of it I pause for a moment to inhale a deep breath and to stretch and flex my shoulders before reaching for the new suit. As I lift it down from its display I notice a slight shift within Bruce. I frown and glance at him then. He still has his arms crossed, still showing me that stern exterior, but in his eyes… I’ve seen that look before. 

“What? You need me to help you?” He spits out. Sarcasm. He really must be in a bad mood. I resist the smirk creeping at the corners of my mouth. I glare at him instead; pleased to show him how boring I think he is. I step into the legs, all the while paying attention to Bruce’s beating heart. 

“It’s rude to stare Bruce.” I pull the suit up over my hips and he finally exhales. I let my face grow a little redder when turning around. His answer is just a grunt. I like how easy it is for me to make him uncomfortable. I should do it more often. Perhaps even make it a permanent feature of Clark. I slip my arms into the sleeves while pondering this and shrug the suit into place over my shoulders. 

I can feel Superman lurk in the periphery, so powerful, just and good. Perfection personified. He is supposed to be my grandest creation, but in truth he is no more than a cardboard cutout in comparison to Clark. I’ve been working on him my entire life. To slip into Superman is almost like taking a vacation. No more restrictions. There is not a single soul out there who needs to know what he fancies or where he grew up. He can be empty and no one will care. As long as he does his job, as long as they see him putting out fires and leave bad guys behind bars they are content. It is almost too easy. I straighten my back, toss the glasses on the floor and, as a final touch, brush the hair out of my face. And there he is: Superman, carefree and strong, a beacon of hope, and my own private plaything. 

Bruce nods at me. “It’ll do.”

#### 2029 – Storage unit

  
It’s a slow process. I seem to be stuck in between dreams. Or are they memories? Some of it I’m sure is real, must be.

“-oooh, please, no.” There is that strange shiver again. He shouldn’t sound like that. Clark doesn’t sound like that! “Bruce… please, please.” He is, crying? “Sorry- I’m... S-so sorry-“ It is a bit like falling, waking up. Not entirely unpleasant, but shocking. It happens so suddenly, my limbs twitch all at once, my senses put on edge and my mind still half asleep. He seems to be holding me. His face burrowed into my chest. It’s heavy. He gives up strong desperate sobs, spurting out nonsense between those sharp intakes of air. I take in a breath of my own, it’s rasping and unfamiliar. It’s a desperate need. My arms are tingling, my head is heavy and I can’t seem to move my legs. Clark jolts his head up the instant I make sound. His face is covered in tears, his mouth and nose dripping, strings of snot and spit latching on to my chest. He is a mess. 

“Cl-“ He quickly shakes his head at me. Don’t talk, his eyes tell me. His hands are on my face, my shoulders, taking hold of my own. It is an ever changing series of touches until he leans his head against mine, where he lingers. Tears are still dropping from his eyes. They land on my cheeks, my nose. 

“Your heart. B-bruce. Your h-heart…” He swallows, wipes his face on his sleeves. “Oh god-“ He seems to shrink. I’m being picked up. He cradles me against his chest and whispers he is sorry, over and over. Then he hardens, his grip becoming more firm. I have closed my eyes but I can still feel the heat and see the flashes of red through my eyelids. He is burning it to the ground, my cell is being obliterated.  
“I’ll take you home now.” He says while wrapping the cloak tight around me. “I- I don’t know what came over me.” We are ascending quickly. The air is pushed out of me. It’s all too familiar, yet so very new. I am still reeling from the fever, in my chest my heart beats irregularly. I piece it all together as best I can. He must have thought I was dead. No, no I must really have been dead. 

#### 2025 – Gotham City, Slums

  
This is me staying away. I’m not interfering I’m simply watching… Alright, alright. I shouldn’t be here. He doesn’t want me to, I know. But… My eyes are closed so I can better hear his heart below me. He is laying in wait for Gotham’s newest drug dealer. He wanted to do this himself, said the kid was too green. I disagree. Joseph is young, but he has been taught by the very best and he has proven himself time and time again. This is pride clouding his judgment. I angle my head slightly; a frown on my face, but his heart immediately resumes its regular, steady pulse and I let out the breath I was holding. A false alarm.

He won’t admit it but he is getting too old for this. The wounds take longer to heal, his stamina drains faster and his heart… it simply can’t take it anymore. It’s dangerous for him, for us all if he stays in the field. We can’t trust him like we used to. It has been agreed that he should stay behind the scenes and keep away from the fighting. He is too valuable an asset to lose, but he is not one to listen. 

His heart rate is rising; I look down and see he is engaged in combat. Normal then. I shift and lean my back against the wall, eyes closed again. He is breathing heavy now… ten years ago this would have been a mere warm-up. Now, well now it has already made him tired and slow- My eyes open in horror. Time slows down, a small click from a revolver aligning. The gunpowder ignites only moments later and a loud crack reverberates in my ears. I catch the bullet in my hand, my face still lit up with fear. The gun falls to the ground, no doubt my sudden appearance has frightened the boy. He staggers away from me, blindly stumbling backwards. I decide to spur him on, my eyes light up. I know how monstrous it makes me look. The boy lets out a small moan; he pisses himself and crawls away from me. In his panic he reaches the stairs and hurries down. I let him go. My attention turns back to Batman. He is fighting for air, gasping and fumbling to get up. I look at his heart. It’s struggling. I don’t waste any more time, I swoop him up and pull of his suit as I make my way to the hospital. 

#### 2029 – Location Unknown

  
“Bruce?” Where am I? I am getting tired of waking up like this. “Bruce? Can you hear me?” IV, I am given an IV. Hospital then? No, no, that’s not right. “Supes, please get out of here, you’re in the way.” Joseph? “I said get out, Clark.”

#### 2025 – Gotham City, General Hospital

  
“Heart attack.” I say to everyone and no one while walking in to the ER. “He has irregular heartbeats, and is floating in and out of consciousness. Help him.” I put him down gently on a stretcher, and then I leave. I have spent too much time looking over him already; I can’t ignore the rest of them any longer. Superman has other more important responsibilities. This, thing with Bruce should not justify his full attention. I just don’t know how to stop caring. I make a call to the manor before opening up to the world. “I left him at Gotham General.” Is all I say, and then I listen. So many! Too many… Where do I go first? How do I choose? There. Thousands upon thousands of cries for help, there is a cacophony out there of pain and sadness but this one is strong, stronger than the rest. I leave for Japan.

#### 2029 – Gotham City, Wayne Manor

  
“I’m not leaving, Joseph. And you sure as hell can’t make me.”

“Fine, but keep your distance. I need space to work.” Hands are on me again. They’re cold. Another needle. I don’t want to sleep again so I try to tug it out. “Don’t be like that. You need to let me help.” Joseph holds my arms down and I am too weak to protest. 

“He hasn’t eaten for three days, some water but not enough. He- he was also given this..” It’s getting hard to focus. Feel myself slipping… away…

#### 2025 – Hungary

  
I feel useless. There is nothing I can do to help these people. Wherever I put my efforts it can’t fix the real problem. This is politics, and Superman is not very good with politics. My work here can be compared to putting a band aid on a broken artery. This must be fought with intellect and wits, not brawns. Bruce- he would know what to do. If only he cared… Bruce, is he alright? I should go back to him, make sure. Arrgh, I can’t do this again! Focus! Listen, listen the rest of them. They are so many, and every single one of them deserves your attention just as much as him.

I need a direction… Where should I go? Back to Japan, perhaps I could- No, you fool! You can’t expose yourself to radiation. I might not die from it, but you can’t rid me of it either. Russia then? I snort at the thought. They have made it very clear that Superman’s help is not appreciated. Putin would choose to see it as an assault and likely retaliate with full force. Damn it all to hell! I need Bruce back. Not this reckless has-been he’s become whose greatest joy would be to die in that fucking suit. I want a problem with an easy solution. How do I stop a civil war? There are no bad guys here, they are all victims. I can’t simply pick a side! 

#### 2029 – Gotham City, Wayne Manor

  
I wake up to damp bed sheets and an empty room. I realize I’m home. As I stand up the needle in my arm snags on the tube connected to the IV bag, it stings and I nearly get hit by the stand as it topples over. I follow it down to not let it rip open a wound. My nose whistles with every breath, agitated I straighten the stand, and then lean on it for support. I manage to pull one of my robes over my shoulders and then I cross the room, slowly making my way to the bath. I take a deep breath before looking in the mirror; counting the wounds and bruises I should see on my body. A deep cut on my forehead, more cuts and bruises on my wrists and ankles, a swelling around my left thumb. I take another deep breath and open my eyes. The mirror shows me seven neat stitches going straight through the left eyebrow, as I expected it will leave a highly visible mark. The skin is dark blue, nearly black, around the edges of the wound with a sickening shade of green fading into the hairline.

“You’re awake.” I am startled at his sudden appearance. I lean forward grasping the sink, take a few deep breaths and realize who it is. These new drugs. They’re- keeping- me- keeping me from getting upset. I want to lash out damn it…

“I was get-“ Good. If he’d finished that sentence, my health be damned, I would have forced another heart attack just to spite him!

“You shouldn’t be here. I don’t want you here.” The words are coated in anger, too tired to care. “Give me a day, or two… Don’t come here until I’m ready.” I can see him in the mirror. He looks lost, desperate. Both very alarming, but I can’t handle him like this. I need rest, time to think and to form a plan. “Go, Clark.” 

“I’m sor-“

“I said get out!” I swirl around ready to show him just how sorry he ought to be, but he’s already gone. Probably for the best. I slide down to the floor and stay there gasping through the waves of anger and shame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come. Expect this pace from me in the future as well. / 0ut0fluck

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? Too sappy? This is my very first fanfic... ever. Hope you liked it, and better yet see it's potential because I intend to write much, much more.


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